#that was supposed to be Me kurt cobain should have been My mom

[musicisinmyveins]

I always thought of myself as a "music buff". I loved music in so many forms. I obviously loved the music my parents brought me up with; which was their tastes I suppose. My Mom had a love for Neil Diamond and Elvis Presley. My Dad, I guess I never really knew back when I was younger who his favorites were. In fact, I am still not sure who they are. Perhaps I should look into that before I no longer can.

My taste in music was a wide variety though. However, what I lacked in, was a knowledge of the members of all the bands that I had a passion for. I knew songs, not always the titles. I knew a few lyrics, not always full tunes. I definitely did not know artists, singers, drummers, guitar players. I suspect when I was growing up I may have known more but as I got older and had children, I definitely became "absent" in the world of anything that wasn't in the life of a child. I am almost ashamed to admit that I barely knew who Kurt Cobain was when he passed away. I mean, of course I had heard of Nirvana, but to have known the whole story of him and his life and to have truly known him, I did not. I was too buy raising small boys to even entertain the idea of listening to anything other than Barney and Winnie the Pooh. I also think, at that stage in my life, I may have been listening to country music or going to dance clubs on the few nights I did go out. I knew the Macarena dance moves, and the lyrics to "Baby Got Back" but there were so few things in life I had time for truly.

When someone comes into your life and either introduces you to good music or perhaps they just simply take the time to teach you about music, artists and how to appreciate something that you once truly loved all over again, you will never forget that person. You also generally never forget the moment that they first made this happen.

For me it was when I was asked who my favorite artist was and I couldn't name anyone and he responded with Dave Grohl. I was so embarrassed when I didn't know who that was. Even more so now.

He made it my homework assitnment to learn who he was and to listen to the Foo Fighters. I will never forget. I took that assignment very seriously. I found a documentary on Netflix and watched it that night. I was sold. I fell in love with Dave and with Taylor Hawkins. I think perhaps I fell in love with all of them to be honest.

Since that day, the man that brought me to that moment has brought me so many more songs and artists and moments in those artists lives. I have looked at stories and documentaries. I know so much about Kurt Cobain now and have fallen in love with so much of his music and have cried about losing such an amazing talent. I will be touching on so many of these stories and songs and artists he has brought into my world. It's oe of the greatest gifts he has ever given back to me.

Dave Grohl. I can't believe that I ever said that I didn't know who that was. I am ashamed of the girl that sputtered those words. I knew a lot of music, good music before that day, but my true appreciation for it has never been what it is like it is since that day.

Perhaps we all have that defining music moment.

#dave grohl #foo fighters #taylor hawkins #kurt cobain #netflix #baby got back #defining moment #finding music again #artist appreciation #musicians #music #my words #childhood music #spilled thoughts #writers on tumblr #my playlist #mimv:p5

[stabbingandorbeingstabbed]

los feratu voice Gud Eevening tumblrinas 🧛🏻‍♀️ 🦇 ⚰️ 🩸 🖤

#sometimes i take a selfie and it's like. oh you can Tell she thinks she's 2013 frances bean cobain #i'll never get over the injustice she was born 12 days after me #that was supposed to be Me kurt cobain should have been My mom #anyways. i saw her and sky ferreira doing the whole huge too tiny shorts giant shoes thing in like #2013 and said 'cool you don't need to show me anything else i got it from here <3' #hi i'm stoned and off work and miss my friends in my phone

[nolanhollogay]

[chanting] antreggie antreggie antreggie

i have brain rot so here is a oneshot Mwah tagging @juliesdahlias and @richitozier bcuz i know there was interest hehe

oh also rated like t i guess for making out and vaguely implied nsfw situations (it’s just in a single line but wanted to warn anyway just in case)

Ant tried his best not to look too affected as he watched Alex and Luke. They were standing on the other side of the room, wearing matching smiles and holding hands. They were discussing some date they were going to go on. Ant wrinkled his nose as Alex laughed at something Luke said.

Ant hated being jealous. It made him feel gross inside, like his guts were made of nothing but rage and insecurity. But he couldn’t help it. Not when they were being so coupley in his face literally every day. Ever since they got together it felt like they were suffocating him with their love.

He looked back down at the book in his hands as Luke pulled Alex down for a kiss. He just needed to distract himself.

All of a sudden, Reggie’s head was in his lap. He moved his book to see his smiling face and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, hi?” he said, staring down at him in confusion.

“What ya reading?” Reggie asked. Ant blinked at him. The cover was literally directly in front of him.

He decided to humor him anyway. “Adrenaline by James Robert Baker. It’s about this gay couple who kidnap a cop after-”

Reggie cut him off. “Sounds cool. We should make out." 

Ant froze, making a face at being interrupted before he actually processed what Reggie had said. "What?”

“We should make out,” he repeated. He was still smiling, but he didn’t seem to be joking.

“Why?” Ant folded down the corner of the page he was on in his book before he closed it. Better give Reggie his full attention unless he wanted to agree to something stupid. He’d made that mistake too many times before.

Reggie sucked in a breath. “I’m hot, you’re hot, I wanna know if I like guys like I think I do, it’ll make you stop moping over Alex and Luke,” he listed, holding up four fingers as he spoke.

“I’m not moping,” Ant said with a scoff. He was brooding at best.

“You’re definitely moping. But it’s okay because you’re cute when you pout.”

“I don’t pout. Shut up,” he said. Reggie cooed, sitting up to cup his face and squish his cheeks. Ant looked over his shoulder to see Luke and Alex still in their own world.

He sighed, knowing he might as well give in. He had nothing to lose. “You better take me on a date first, Reginald,” he grumbled, and Reggie cheered, pulling him into a hug.

Ant realized he’d never really thought of Reggie romantically before. Yeah, he’d thought he was cute, he wasn’t blind. But he’d never seen him in the way he’d seen Alex or any other guy he’d been attracted to. Reggie was just his straight friend who happened to be cute. Who was apparently not as straight as he thought and thought he was hot.

Watching Reggie grin at him, he acknowledged that maybe that could change. He wondered how this development would change everything else. 

“What are you guys doing?” Luke asked with a laugh. Alex sent Ant a curious look, eyebrow raised in question. Ant shrugged.

Reggie cleared his throat, climbing out of Ant’s lap. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it." 

-

Their date consisted of them watching Casper on VHS on Reggie’s couch and sharing a pepperoni pizza. 

It wasn’t exactly some mind blowing romantic experience but Ant hadn’t expected much. Reggie did wear his fancy flannel and he held Ant’s hand the entire night though, so maybe he was taking it semi-serious.

And he had kept watching Ant as the movie played, like he couldn’t help himself, which made butterflies flutter behind Ant’s ribcage.

"Do you want to go upstairs?” Reggie asked, turning to him as the credits started.

Ant scoffed, even though a smile was tugging at his lips. Reggie was always so overzealous. “What kind of boy do you take me for?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Reggie cried, holding his hands up in protest. “I just meant that we could hang out in my room!”

Ant laughed, the sound bubbling out of him, making Reggie frown in confusion. “I know. I was just teasing you, Reg." 

Reggie punched him on the shoulder. "Asshole.”

-

Ant sat on Reggie’s bed, waiting as he closed the door behind them. His parents had just gotten home and were already arguing so they had escaped as quickly as they could. Ant hated when they got caught in the crossfire.

He sighed, leaning back against Reggie’s pillows. 

Reggie’s room was always messy, even when he put in the effort to clean it. He had obviously straightened up because he knew Ant was coming over, but there were still little things out of place here and there. His guitar resting against his wall while it’s case stuck out from under the bed. A t-shirt crumpled up on the floor that he must’ve forgotten to pick up. An open text book on his desk. It was kind of endearing.

Reggie cleared his throat as he sat next to Ant. They sat in silence for a minute, the only sound his mom yelling at his dad for something Ant couldn’t make out. Whatever. It wasn’t his business.

He turned to face Reggie, who looked nauseous. “Do you want to-" 

Reggie was the one to initiate the kiss, cutting off his question. He pressed his lips to Ant’s and the second Ant kissed back he was trying to shove his tongue into his mouth. His mouth was hot, he was breathing hard against Ant’s lips and Ant wrinkled his nose.

"So, that’s why girls never call you back,” he said, moving away with a groan. Whatever fond feelings he had been having very quickly disappeared. Reggie may have been cute but he was still Reggie.

He gasped. “Hey!”

Ant huffed out a laugh. “Calm down. You kiss like you’re trying to eat my face. Ease into it.”

He leaned in again, pressing their lips back together. He gently grabbed Reggie’s chin to adjust his position and laughed when Reggie pinched him on the side.

“Don’t manhandle me, Tony.”

He was the only one who called Ant “Tony”. It used to annoy him to no end. Tony was a name for a weird uncle, or a mobster or something. But it had grown on him over the years.

Ant flicked him on the forehead and he whined. “I’m trying to help. You’re thinking too hard and trying too hard. I’m supposed to be the nervous wreck, not you.”

“I don’t want to scare you off. And I don’t want to mess up,” Reggie admitted.

“Reg, I’m already in your bed. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t,” Ant said, voice soft. Reggie nodded, worry beginning to slip off his face. “C'mon, we’ll try again. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just be gentle.”

Reggie nodded again and they kissed for the third time. It went much smoother than the first two. Reggie let him set the pace, their lips moving together slowly. The fighting downstairs melted away as they found their groove.

It was like trying to learn a song on the guitar for the first time. You kept trying til you found the right note.

Ant sighed as Reggie cupped his face. His hands were holding him like he was something he was scared to drop. Something delicate. It made his chest ache. Something it had definitely never done in Reggie’s presence before. But it wasn’t unwelcome.

He sucked in a breath as Reggie slid a hand into his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue slipped between Ant’s teeth, making him shiver.

Ant looped his arms around his back, trying to get even closer and suddenly he was in Reggie’s lap.

Reggie pulled away from the kiss, smiling sheepishly. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were shining. Ant didn’t understand how he looked so pretty or why they weren’t still kissing.

“Sorry, I just got excited. Is that okay? I know you don’t really like to be touched sometimes. Even though we’re, like, kissing, it’s not the same as me yanking you around,” he said. He was embarrassed and surprisingly considerate for a guy who had tried to eat Ant’s face not too long ago. It was unbelievably cute.

Ant nodded as something warm bloomed in his chest. “Yeah, it’s okay. Kiss me again.”

Reggie nodded. But before he did anything, he very loosely grabbed Ant’s forearms and wrapped them around his neck. Being touched so sweetly kind of made Ant want to swoon, or cry. He was suddenly overcome with affection.

“So you’re more comfortable,” Reggie explained and Ant couldn’t do anything in response except kiss the sweet little smile off of his face.

They kissed for hours after that. All the way up until Ant had to go back home. Even though they had spent the entire afternoon with each other’s tongues in their mouths, it wasn’t awkward when they said their goodbyes, like Ant expected. He assumed it would be a one off thing, something they’d forget about and never bring up again. He was apparently mistaken when Reggie managed to make him blush by giving him a “kiss to keep him safe”.

Ant felt like he was glowing from the inside out for the entire walk home.

-

Making out with Reggie very quickly became a learning experience.

Reggie learned that sometimes Ant didn’t want to be touched but other times he needed nothing more then the two of them to be pressed together, fingers intertwined and legs tangled up. He didn’t like rough kisses and he loved being kissed on the forehead. (Though he’d never admit that outloud.)

Ant learned that Reggie liked it when he scratched his nails down his back and whispered snarky comments into the space between their lips. He didn’t like Ant talking about having a crush on Kurt Cobain in the middle of kissing. (But really, it was his fault for putting All Apologies on the making out mixtape.)

Ant was also learning that their friends were incredibly oblivious. A part of him already knew that, for a multitude of reasons. But he and Reggie were apparently very bad at sneaking around and they still hadn’t caught on.

A week ago, Bobby had walked in on Ant sitting in Reggie’s lap and didn’t even blink. He just said, “Hey guys,” as Reggie pushed Ant onto the floor. Then without comment, he pulled out his guitar and paid them no mind, like they weren’t bickering and blushing.

A few days before that Luke walked in on them holding hands and wanted to know if they were “band bonding” without everyone else. So they ended up holding his hands as well, standing like a bunch of kids playing Ring Around The Rosie. It would’ve been sweet if Alex didn’t come in immediately after and say that they looked stupid.

Alex was probably the only one even close to figuring out what was going on, but he didn’t even seem to care. Ant wasn’t trying to make him jealous or anything because he wasn’t terrible and Alex was literally taken, but it kind of bothered him that his best friend was so flippant about his secret relationship.

They’d been hanging out, just the two of them, for the first time in a while. They were in his room, playing a very unsuccessful game of Pictionary when Alex squinted at him.

“What?” he asked, squinting back.

“You’re wearing Reggie’s shirt,” Alex replied, sounding suspicious. Ant looked down at the shirt he was wearing, and sure enough, he was wearing Reggie’s Iron Maiden shirt. “That’s his lucky shirt. How’d you get it?”

“He gave it to me because he ruined one of mine,” Ant explained. It technically wasn’t a lie. The week before Reggie had destroyed his shirt in a rather indecent way and had given him a shirt to wear. 

Ant hadn’t known it was his lucky shirt until that moment. There was something sweet about Reggie giving him something that apparently meant a lot to him. He bit his lip to hide a smile as Alex nodded, looking uninterested, before he started a new round of the game.

A part of Ant wanted him to care more, to press him for information. But a bigger part of him liked having Reggie all to himself.

It was then, trying to draw a tiger, that he realized he was screwed. Apparently he’d caught actual feelings for Reggie and had somehow missed it as it was happening. That was just his luck. 

-

Ant was half asleep, trying to read Shakespeare for class when his bedroom door burst open. He flinched at the sound, looking over to the doorway.

Reggie was standing there, sweaty and out of breath. “Ant, we have a problem,” he announced, loudly.

“Shhh, stop being so loud. And how’d you get into my house? Did my Dad let you in? You know you’re supposed to call before you come over,” he rambled. His brain heard the word problem and shot into overdrive.

Reggie closed the door behind him before walking the short distance to his bed. He threw himself into it and leaned against the wall.

“Yes, your dad let me in. Sorry I didn’t call, but this is important,” he said.

Ant’s stomach dropped, his mind running through all the worst case scenarios. Someone died. The guys found out about them going behind their backs and hated them. Reggie was going to tell him they needed to stop because he didn’t actually like him.

Trying to hold back the urge to vomit, he cleared his throat. Forcing himself to meet Reggie’s eyes, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I was in bed and I was thinking about you. Not in a dirty way,” he paused, “Okay, maybe a little bit of a dirty way. But it was tasteful! There were like candles and stuff and-”

“Please get to the point, Reg.” Ant curled his hands into fists at his sides, trying to calm himself down. He was so nervous he was shaking.

Reggie nodded. “Right. Sorry. So, I was thinking about you and I realized that I like you. Like, I really like you. Like, I wanna date you. And I know we’ve been kind of dating already, but I want the real deal. So, I ran all the way here because I had to tell you and see if you felt the same.”

Rage and embarrassment and fondness swirled in Ant’s chest. God, Reggie was so stupid. He liked him so much.

He picked up his copy of King Lear and smacked him on the shoulder with it. “I hate you. You just freaked me out so bad because you’re dramatic. You could’ve just called me.”

Reggie whined, rubbing his arm. “But that wouldn’t have been as romantic!”

Ant rolled his eyes but his annoyance didn’t last long because he replayed Reggie’s confession in his head.

“I really like you too. Even if you are stupid and almost gave me a heart attack,” he said, making Reggie grin.

“So, we’re boyfriends now?” he asked. Ant nodded, smiling back at him.

Reggie cheered and threw himself at him with a kiss. Ant laughed into his mouth.

“Oh, I must’ve really scared you. You’re shaking,” he said, voice full of concern as he pulled away.

Ant groaned, flushing with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so worked up that fast. “I thought someone died or something. Leave me alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I know you worry, I should’ve taken that into consideration when I was doing my script in my head,” Reggie said. He brushed Ant’s hair off of his forehead and pressed a kiss there.

Ant blushed again. He couldn’t handle being taken care of. It made him feel feverish, like affection was burning his body up from the inside.

“Leave me alone. I have homework to do,” he said, gently pushing him away.

Reggie nodded, even as he straddled him and threw his book to the floor. “You know what’s cooler than homework? Kissing me.”

Ant really couldn’t argue with that logic.

#antreggie #anthony price #my writing #no u dont understand im OBSESSED #95verse

[craftygirlscreations]

Show compassion for Suicide

When some dies by Suicide we think we can know what was going on, but ultimately, for the most part, we have no clue what that person was thinking or living. No matter how much support we gave, how close we were or what we knew of their situation we still really have no idea what personal hell they were enduring.

My son died by suicide and left us devastated, to say the least. I’m surprised with the growing numbers of deaths by suicide in the past couple of decades that people still choose to condemn and chastise the one who died. Too many still make their own assumptions about those who are dead and their choices. Depression and mental illness are very common. Suicide and thoughts of depression are so devastatingly lonely. What happens if your loved one didn’t show signs of depression, mental issues or the typical signs? My son didn’t.

You see my sons and I are extremely close and talk about everything. We had the kind of relationship where we discussed everything and they came to ME when they had any type of issues. In hindsight, I have the “what if’s “ and wonder if this could have been prevented because we never openly talked about Suicide. I had no clue this horrible experience was going to happen. He wasn’t the “typical “ person who dies by Suicide because he didn’t struggle with depression or have any mental issues. We’d occasionally talk about “What If “questions, like ‘Mom if anything should ever happen to me will you make sure to take care of my family, especially my baby?” Was that him contemplating suicide and I didn’t recognize the signs? I really don’t believe so. He’s asked me these type of questions several times throughout his life. Both my kids have but it didn’t seem unreasonable because they both have served in the military and did tours in conflict areas out of country in wartime. Therefore, it would be natural for them to ask and ensure everything was in order.

In my ‘Grief Support “ groups I’ve learned for some, it is NEVER a question of “if” it is a question of “when”. There is nothing hidden. These poor parents seek help for their child praying any and all avenues will change the flashing warning signs. Often, even with regular counseling and medication the end result is the same. They are still bereaved parents trying to wrap their minds, hearts and existence around this life altering mess they now find themselves in. During the most tragic events in life we are faced with others judgement, cruelty and ignorance. You’d be surprised at by many people have no problem in sharing their thoughts and beliefs about Suicide condemning the child whom we are already mourning.

We all know someone who has died by suicide or know somebody affected by suicide. We hear about the suicides of celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, Kate Spade, Anthony Bourdain, Chester Bennington, Mindy McCreedy, Dave Mirra, Avicii, Kurt Cobain, Robin Williams or Chris Cornell. For some, these events evoke an emotional and overwhelming response, both on social media and in person. Unfortunately, when suicide does occur, there are people who immediately blame the victim. They lash out with anger or lack of understanding at the one who caused others pain. It’s certainly understandable to be angry about a loss, but when anger is directed at the person who took their own life, it shows a significant lack of understanding of how mental illness or Suicide works. It’s 2019 and as a people we are supposed to be forward thinkers. Look at how many celebrities have taken their own lives. We need to find our humanity again and begin to show compassion and educate ourselves as to the severity in mental health that have lead us here. Discrimination and negative remarks have no place here. As an advanced people we need to cut out all of this victim blaming bullshit and get a grip. Race, gender, personal preference, lifestyle, beliefs, principles, morals, religion or whatever else simply have no place here. What? Have we not moved past all this yet? If we can’t come together as people...just plain ol’ people... especially at a time of death what kind of examples are we setting for the next generation?

As a people let’s choose to “Lead by example.” We are slowly rolling backwards! Wake up world you are setting an example and making way for the future of our children. Don’t you want better for them than you had for yourself?

My son was the life of the party. He was the “strongest “ person that everyone looked up to and leaned on. His closest friends and family members had no idea, that this would be our new reality. I never stopped worrying about my adult sons. I always asked what I could do to help them in any way possible. Both of my sons famous response is/ was usually“I’m good Momma, I got this”. And it’s true he usually did. Except, for the one fateful night that changed our life forever. The one night he didn’t call me or reach out to talk. The horrible night one stupid but fixable fight changed everything and he made the rash split second choice that couldn’t be fixed. Alcohol played a huge role in this terrible night. He was drinking. He only had a few drinks and was not totally drunk. It didn’t matter, It took his ability to reason or think clearly away. It made him forget all the beautiful reasons worth living for. It didn’t allow him to clearly see that in this fight no harm was done. He couldn’t understand how sorry he’d be in the moments after that tragic reaction. Or how many would suffer and grieve because of his loss.

I still only have love for my son. That will never change. In fact, I am resolved in standing up for the victims and families of Suicide. The stigma needs to end. My son is gone but his spirit lives on and so I will carry on his lifetime legacy making sure my son isn’t forgotten. Suicide is something for us to talk about, not condemn. I find it insulting and hateful when people say such negative things about people who die by suicide. Will you feel the same way when you have a loved one who dies by suicide? Compassion is something everyone can work on. Every day since he died is now a struggle. I refuse to sink.

#childloss #griefandloss #love lost #suicide #depression #mental health #sad quotes #veteransuicide #griefrecovery #grief #stop the stigma #22 a day #veteran #bereavement #bereaved parents #family #facebook #twitter #health #alcohol

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Long post, coming up on my niece’s birthday

It started out to be such an adventure. We initially couldn’t believe our good luck:  a long lost relative wanting to fly us to Washington DC  for an impromptu family reunion to settle some matters over some land my father’s family in Lebanon were selling.

We had always dreamed of visiting DC, but, being poor, a dream was all it was.  Suddenly we were there in this great hotel, hanging out with my Dad’s family who are all rich and cultured and have seen the world.  It was wonderful.

Then, one night before we were to leave, we came back to the hotel and I saw I had texts on my phone, several texts.  They were all from my mom’s side of the family or family friends telling me to call home right away.  The home they were talking about is West Texas, the most backward, hateful, racist spot you can imagine, a place where the Civil War never really took place except in people’s minds and in their limited version of history, the South won.

My mom was a wonderful woman, what I remember of her.  However the kids she had before me with another husband might as well have been space aliens for all we had in common.   Being told to call home meant someone had taken someone hostage, someone was in jail, someone was in a mental institution, someone had the SWAT team called on them, someone needed to be talked out of having an abortion, someone had just punched a cop, or someone was going to court over a dispute with their neighbors.

None of these things could be changed by me, especially not me in Washington DC a million miles from home.    So I did my best to ignore them until I couldn’t.

I try to avoid that side of the family as much as I can because any attempt to communicate or help gets me yelled at, cussed out, my inbox filled with hate mail and leads to me having to block relatives on every social network before the make their opinions of me public.   So I got the clever idea to just go stalk their facebook pages rather than talk to them directly in order to find out what was going on.

THIS IS HOW I FOUND OUT MY NIECE HAD KILLED HERSELF.

There are a million details and footnotes to this story but drugs had turned her into another person.  We had once been best friends, more like sisters than anything.  We had grown up together, taken care of each other.  She might as well have been an orphan as both of her parents gave up rights to her and left her with an alcoholic, abusive, shrew of a grandmother.  We were always there for each other until she married a second time and discovered money, plastic surgery and Oxycontin.

“They You took for granted your soul and it’s ours now to steal… NOW YOUR NIGHTMARE COMES TO LIFE…..”

As if this was not enough, being a million miles away, not being able to go home for the funeral and pretty damn sure no one wanted me there anyway, despite what they said, there was more to this anniversary.

At the same time I had three “best” friends turn their backs on me, even though I had just announced I was having a nervous breakdown and needed a break from everyone and for everyone t either treat me gently or give me space.   I had two best friends become best friends with each other and gang up on me and one that it turned out just didn’t give a damn.  These weren’t just random people.   One I had known for 4 years, one I had known for 8 years and one I had known for 25 years.

The two that chose each other over me had made a point of making friends w/ several other friends (online) and rather than have THOSE friends abandon me too, I jumped ship and left them before they could leave me.   Maybe not the most mature thing but how the hell was I to know who cared and who didn’t?  I mean if someone dumps me after 25 years, who’s to say that five year friendship I thought I had actually existed.  So in the end I lost a handful of friends, all of which I’d had for years, and my niece, and my ability to trust anyone ever again.

Sure, I’d been turned on before.  It happened all the time, but when “those girls” turned on me “these friends” were the ones to pick me up, back me up, and keep me sane.  Now “these friends’ were "those girls”.

And so here I am a year later.   I won’t say I’m friendless because I’m not.  However I make every effort to keep myself far apart from the world and only rely on myself no matter how bad things get. Because you never know.   The person who was there for you, the one you told all your secrets to, could be the very one using those very secrets against you tomorrow.

In the end it’s just better to be alone.  I should have learned that years ago with the AFI girls.  I should have learned that after Jimmy’s death when I was kicked out of every A7X community by saying someone should stepped up and forced his ass into rehab.

And maybe I’ll never learn it, but I have learned to be careful.

LeAnn,

I read the news today oh boy About a lucky man who made the GRADE And though the news was rather sad Well I just had to laugh I saw the photograph He blew his mind out in a car He didn’t notice that the lights had changed

I am still mad at you.  I am still so angry that you took this way out, after your step dad did the same, after your aunt did the same, after our best friend in the whole world had her life and the life of her unborn son ripped away from her.  And you just gave it up. And I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry you were abused.  I’m sorry your life did not turn out the way you wanted it.  I’m sorry for the voices in your head and I’m sorry for them men who were supposed to love and protect you and ended up abusing you, terrifying you and ultimately ending your life.  I’m sorry you didn’t call me.  I’m sorry we stopped talking.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there.

I think about the concerts we went to: Danzig Smashing Pumpkins Tesla Pantera

I think of the times we got drunk and should have died.  I think of how we buried your step dad (my brother-in-law) and Margo, our mutual best friend, within weeks of each other.  And having gone through this you still chose to take your life.

I’m so sorry I wasn’t there! I miss you so much it feels like my heart is being torn out from inside my body. I should have wished you a happy birthday.  I should have called you, I should have kept bugging you on facebook even if you kept blocking me.  I should have kept trying.  I thought you were happy, I had no idea.

“Please forgive me I can’t forgive you now”

Well, I’m mad, but I forgive you because I’ve been there.  There are times I’m not sure what kept me from it.  Our family is cursed, you know?  You have to have realized tha

But we all die, right?  Sooner or later. Margo and I used to laugh about how I thought the angels looked like Will Sexton.  Who knows maybe they do.  I think about it a lot and I try not to be scared. I think of you and mom and dad and Mimi and Margo and Jim all waiting for me.

We have 20 years to go.  My internal clock is ticking.  Remember how fast 20 years went?  How one day we were 15 together listening to Poison and trying to make sense of the world, then we blinked and we were 35 and Jim and Margo were dead and we were married?  I only have 20 more years of life left in me and then I will be joining you.

I hope you forgive me, I hope you take me back.  I hope you remember how we were children once and how we kept each other alive when everyone else gave up on us.  I hope you’ll forgive me for not keeping up my end of that promise once you started doing drugs.  I never stopped loving you, I was just hurt.  In 20 years I’ll find you and then we’ll both go find Mom and Margo and Jim.  And speaking of Jim, after you take me to meet Kurt Cobain, there’s a guy named Jimmy Sullivan I want you to meet.  You’ll love him, he’s a lot like Margo.  In fact, I think they may have been separated at birth. 20 years, meet me at the gates.  I’ll be the one w/ all the tattoos that the angels are looking at suspiciously.

t at some point.  It’s just the way of things.

#long post #rant #essay #grief #loss #remembering #LeAnn

[comebeonetwothree]

Blog #6: Coast to Coast

6/29/2021

The homeland of the rich, the famous, and the homeless junkies of Los Angeles, California will always have my heart.

With my first near death experience, I have come to see life in a new light… YOLO!

Remember that term? Yah, it was one of those fads that had meaning to it but no longer holds a place in fashion... thank god.

Everything on this coast is slow, even the way people talk is dragged out. No one J-walks here. They seriously wait for that little white man to pop up on the cross walks before walking, even if there is not a car in sight.

Yet everyone here has a serious addition to coffee.

Hangovers are even more dragged because everyone is so uber healthy here, they straight up do not have greasy food.

I made the mistake of ordering an egg and cheese, knowing it’ll only be a disappointment compared to a New York BEC. It was beyond disappointing, especially being hungover as fuck.

Everyone here is stoned all the time and have been for years. I truly believe the whole city moves so slow because everyone is high all the time.

No wonder they can survive with the shitty food- they are too high to realize.

They do have some fire weed here, so it makes sense, but damn… they are so slow and ditsy.

There is so much art here, from music, to painting, to theater, to creativity, everyone comes here with a dream. Some make their dreams come true, others end up addicted to crack, but everyone originally came here in hopes of making something of themselves.

That energy runs through the streets, it is so lively and so filled with hope. It is truly an inspiring place to live.

Who

Who have you become…

The people on the west coast are just genuinely nicer. We had a conversation that consisted of outrageous hand gestures with a random man in his car.

He had blocked an intersection accidently so I couldn’t make a left turn, where he then proceeded to see me raging about it and trying to mouth to us how sorry he was. We straight up had a conversation with this guy and were joking around while waiting for the light. We left mouthing, “We are from New Yorkk, move outta the way” as a joke, and he just understood and left us with a peace sign.

There is a surplus of homelessness here, and it is sad to see but also so interesting to watch them set up communities on the sides of highways and all along the beach.

There is never just one homeless dude posted up under a cardboard box. It’s always 15+ people posting up together in nice ass tents they probably stole or making cardboard houses with tarps for extra coverage.

They get super creative with their homelessness; it is fascinating to watch.

This one guy was zipping down the road in what looked like a decked-out bike, with high handlebars and a motor. He was moving with traffic and was looking cool while doing it.

As he got closer, we realized his get-up was made from an ironing board he bent into a seat, a plastic crate holding up the ironing board to a lime scooter he probably stole a month prior. Topping it off, he added tall handlebars for that 70s badass look. That man mastered one man’s trash, into another man’s treasure.

The saddest part is knowing majority of them came out here looking for their big break and got so hooked on drugs, they could never make it farther then that last $10 in their pocket for drugs.

On the other hand, some of these people have money to their names, but choose this lifestyle.

They really enjoy the life of nothing. This one woman was offered a job and a home, and she politely turned it down because this was her home. She loved the community around her and wouldn’t trade it for any material. What a way of life.

My family was so generous to let us three, stay with them here in Venice Beach. My Uncle Greg is my mom’s brother. He moved out here with his family to further his comedic career. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn’t see my cousins often.

My cousin Owen is a year younger than me and in the same grade as my brother. My other cousin Jojo is four years younger but grew up so fast. I always said the water in California was cracked out, because she always appeared older than my brother and I.

Since COVID I hadn’t been able to see them in two years, so I was so excited to hang out with them.

Jojo just graduated high school, so she is finally old enough to do drugs with!!

We also got to meet up with our friend Izzy from Oneonta. She is living out here for the summer with her sister. What a life.

Izzy is thriving here with her job at this night club and is living in her sister’s cute ass apartment in Echo Park. She has the total LA vibe and even knows all the local spots to hang. Shout out to you for sneaking us into a random hotel’s rooftop pool! Confidence never gets questioned.

We love meeting up with friends from school, it makes the trip feel more homie.

What

What’s hanging dude…

Joshua Tree National Park was something out of another planet. It seriously looked like Jurassic Park and a dinosaur should be appearing at any second.

It was very different from anything we had ever seen before, but it was still a desert and was hot as fuck.

We did some gorgeous hikes through all the massively large, rounded rocks that somehow were placed on top of each other ages ago.

The trees that are all around are Joshua Trees, also considered Trees of Life.

This means they produce a way of life for other creatures at all stages of its growing/dying process.

While in beginning stages of its life, Yucca moths use the trees pollen to lay their eggs in and produce pollen scatter, creating more trees. When the trees are gown, the caterpillars use the tree for habitats and provides food sourcing for a lot of other desert species. When the tree dies, the bark is used to create habitats for humans and used to wove baskets and other materials.

These trees look like a palm tree and a cactus went to TOWN together.

Los Angeles is the other city of dreams. It is not comparable to New York City besides the homelessness and the traffic.

The Ocean really makes the whole city’s surfer aesthetic. Everyone, even the rich and famous, dress like they are in last weeks outfit.

The style is so different from New York. People really don’t dress to impress but spend half their life savings on their wardrobe.

Visiting my family here has always been the ideal way to do this city, since they take us to all the local shops, and we do fun activities like surfing. It’s not just another tour bus showing us where Kurt Cobain shot up some heroin for the first time.

They also show us the best food joints. We got these sushi balls, and it was the greatest -post beach snack- imaginable. A little hit of the wax pen and a bite of this ball is comparable to an orgasm.

Where

Where are all the famous people…

Joshua Tree was so beautiful, it is a place I will be re-visiting, considering we were only there for one night.

Los Angeles is where I have always wanted to live, ever since a young girl. Whenever we would come out here to visit my uncle, he would take us to the coolest places, and we would meet the coolest people.

One year I was here on my birthday, and his buddy stopped over to say hi, when I came downstairs in was Zach Galifianakis chilling there with a $20 bill and my name on it as a birthday gift.

You could imagine my teenage self shitting a tiny bit in my pants as he handed me $20… However, in my head I was thinking, “I know you’re rich, give me more you cheap fuck.”

This year for graduation I only got a phone call from him… how rude.

My Uncle is a popular comedian, if you know him you know him, but if you don’t, he is very irrelevant to you.

When we arrived, he took us out to a show he was preforming at in West Hollywood, featuring other comedians you might know or might also be very irrelevant, including Bill Burr, Anthony Jeselnik, Pete Holmes and Beth Stelling.

It was a cool venue, and a fun time. My favorite part was being called out for attempted DUI’s in every state we have been in due to my funneling addiction, thanks Uncle Greg, that was supposed to be a secret.

After the show he dropped us off at this bar that his friends said was the “it” spot. When we walked in, the bar itself was perfect, expect it was populated by older rich men trying to find their next sugar baby.

We had some contenders, but they were asking for too much… No, I don’t want to go back to your house and sneak past your wife and kids as we dart to your hot tub.

When

When will we leave…

When we first got to LA we had full intensions of staying only four nights and getting out of my family’s hair, but then plans fell through.

Because I love it here so much, we decided to stay!!

Just kidding, I wish we could stay longer… One day I’ll move out here though.

COVID restrictions are back at it again, ruining our plans of going Yosemite. They are the only National Park that requires a whole ass separate pass just to enter the park, on top of the $30 day pass we already have.

The only reason our route was heading inland California was to see that park. So, we did a little digging and decided to just send it up all the way up the coast and do the legendary Pacific Coast Highway.

This is what we originally wanted to do before we found out about Yosemite. Guess we will have to come back to see the park, aw shucks!

Why

Why can’t I afford this…

California is fucking expensive; I can see why the population of homelessness is so high… Even gas is $1.00 more than it is back in New York.

And for Why? They are on a coast, it’s not like the desert where there is a gas station every 100 miles.

They know people here have the money, so they overprice literally everything. A fucking water bottle is $7.00. Sorry didn’t realize paying for survival would be this expensive.

The older man at the bar loved to throw the fact he had money around (as do most people with money around here). He kept saying he works on wall street, but wall street is literally a street in New York City.

He just wanted to flex he works in finances and has a hot tub, okay we get it you have a small dick.

How

How we almost died…

This is my favorite part of the last week, but also the most traumatizing.

So, have you ever heard of cowboy camping?

Well, neither had we until our friend that had just camped in Joshua Tree told us about it and how legendary it was in that specific spot.

Cowboy camping: you don’t pitch your tent, you just post up with your sleeping bags under the stars.

Since Joshua Tree is known for their stars, we thought fuck it, we are here for less than 12 hours, the weather is perfect let’s do it.

That night was a full moon, and it was a killer sunset (all pun intended). We cooked up a nice rice bowl for dinner and then laid in our sleeping bags watching the stars.

The moon was almost too bright, it was taking away from the illumination of the stars, but it was legendary because I’ve never seen such a big and bright moon before.

But you know what they say about the full moons, it brings out the crazies. And in our case, coyote crazies.

After drifting off to sleep under the peaceful star and moon lit sky, I was rudely woken up to really loud growling and whimpering.

It was not something that was off in the distance, it was right next to us… barebone in the wild.

I quickly and quietly turned over to grab my bear spray that I keep next to me when camping. I started thinking, “Alright this is the only thing keeping me from getting mauled by whatever the fuck is next to me.”

Not knowing what we were dealing with, I slowly popped my head up hoping the animal didn’t catch my movement… I saw about 5 feet in front of us was a pack of about 10 coyotes, running around chasing animals.

We happen to be the center of their circle and were surrounded by their pack. Thankfully their attention was diverted to our asshole neighbor’s whose food was left out. Thanks for that.

We just laid their paralyzed in fear of death. As we laid there, I saw two shooting stars and wished for life… Shoutout to those shooting stars.

We tried to stay as quiet as possible, so we didn’t become their next victim. Maya was not having it though and couldn’t stop shaking. There was a moment when her shaking was so loud, and I could see a coyote right next to us, so I had to hold her body so it would stop moving.

We laid there for about 20 minutes until the noises stopped… then we booked it for the car. We slept in the car until the sun rose.

As the sun was rising all the coyotes simultaneously howled for the rest of the pack to meet up and disappear before daylight. That was one of those, “holy shit that was the coolest most terrifying moments of my life”, moments.

We left the next morning as fast as possible, running on no sleep and fear… we headed for the city. I had never been more grateful to be in a city.

#blogging for beginnerstravel blogjoshua treelos angelescoast to coastroad trippost gradwe are brokesugarnear death experiencecoyote #blogging for beginners #joshua tree #los angeles #coast to coast road trip #post grad #broke #near death experience #coyote

[tinymixtapes]

Interview: Seth Graham

The music published by Orange Milk, an underground behemoth of experimental music and cassette culture co-founded by Seth Graham and Keith Rankin (a.k.a. Giant Claw), feels like multiple authors contributing their stories to one sprawling space opera. The label has been lauded by a wide spectrum of listeners and critics, and is instantly recognized through a delightful, kaleidoscopic approach to color, sound, and aesthetic identity. Themes and approaches in the collective Orange Milk output seem impossible to define coherently. There are oozing, primordial cultures of bacterial sound, moments of pure, demented bliss; Seth Graham’s own music, especially on his latest album Gasp, refines these abstract elements while rocketing them farther into space. It is intrepid music that deliberately hovers on the edge of order, a space that the composer challenges himself to explore. We caught up with Seth Graham over the phone to talk about Herbie Hancock, the various MIDI instruments he chose to explore on Gasp, and the experiences in his life that brought the album to bear. The album is available to pre-order here (LP) and here (CD), but you can also listen to the full release below before its March 23 release. --- Gasp contains a wide variety of sounds, but it’s very focused too. Some of them appear multiple times, like the woodwind, the voices. Did you have a clear idea of what instruments you wanted to appear, and when? I definitely had a very specific idea… like that composer Gerard Grisey, he has pieces where he records the cello super close to the mic. You can almost hear the rustling, and it’s high-res. It almost sounds like, I don’t wanna say explosion, but it’s a bigger, weirder experience. With classical, when they record it, you hear that typical Tchaikovsky crap; it almost sounds generic. Grisey changed it and put it in your face, and I love that so much. So what I did with the record is any of the instruments that had a really close mic sample [in the VST], I kind of only used those because I liked how they sounded, and I liked how much you could manipulate it. Like for example in the track “Kimochi,” which just means emotion in Japanese, that track starts off with this voice that says one syllable, and that goes into almost sheer metal grinding, and that’s actually just a shit-ton of manipulation of different acoustic instruments with a certain synth. I love to do that and contrast it with that close-mic’d sound. With the flute, you can hear the wind of the person playing. I was obsessed with that. It ended up being a lot of flute, clarinet, cello, and that was kind of it. I think I used some trombone — there’s certain things you can do with the VST where you can hear the whole sample play out, and you can hear the clicking, and I would use that too, people clicking the wind instruments. I was thinking I should just hire people and record it my fucking self. That was something I wanted to ask you about — whether you had plans — or already did — record live instruments and manipulate that? I actually sort of did that already. A record is supposed to come out; it’s pieces from Gasp and a couple of unreleased pieces that this ensemble in Russia asked me to write for a tribute to Philip Glass that they were doing. They asked me and Sean McCann and Sarah Davachi, and I was really honest, like, I’ve never written a classical piece before, I just write MIDI data and mess with it. I just kind of read up on how to write for an ensemble, looked up the instruments they use, re-wrote it all in MIDI. I basically converted that to notation and sent four pieces to them that are pieces from Gasp, but real people. And they did it! They played it at the Museum of Multimedia and Arts in Moscow, and then they played it in a studio, and they were supposed to send us the stems for us to mix and Sean to put out on his label, Recital… and I don’t know, I’m waiting for it. It should be here. But to answer your question, I’ve been trying to think of ways for a new record where I hire people and I write out pieces, and they play it-slash-sing it, because I want really weird things to happen that I can’t make software do. I go to school with someone who’s a trained opera singer, and I want to pay her to sing what I have all notated, her to sing in this key, but then go “Bleahghghg.” I would love to hear that happen, a magnificent operatic voice just shit the bed. That would be awesome. I’ve been trying to think of ways for a new record where I hire people and I write out pieces, and they play it-slash-sing it, because I want really weird things to happen that I can’t make software do. I go to school with someone who’s a trained opera singer, and I want to pay her to sing what I have all notated, her to sing in this key, but then go “Bleahghghg.” Your use of “real instruments” stands apart from other kind of abstract electronic music, like PC Music, where they’re deliberately trying to sound as synthetic as they can. I’m really influenced by a lot of the modern computer music, like Halcyon Veil, or Jesse Osborne-Lanthier, or Rabit, or Chino Amobi… I like all that stuff, but I have a weird aversion to reverb. I feel like reverb makes things cloudy, and in the listening experience, it kind of masks nothing. It could be an art in itself, but I really tried to stay away from it but still be influenced by their aesthetic. That’s interesting you mention that, because Gasp contains lots of open, bare spaces, which really struck me when I heard it. Yeah, and I interpret that as straight-up vulnerability. Just let myself be vulnerable. Vulnerability is such a strength that I admire in people, people who can just admit things and let it be. There’s not even close to enough of that in our world. Even myself I don’t let myself be vulnerable enough, but I think it’s such a beautiful thing, and if the music is kind of awkward and there’s that space, I think it conveys vulnerability. It conveys a sense of drama, too. It does, doesn’t it? I am dramatic, I guess. Ha! Going back to that idea of fate you mentioned earlier, I’m curious as to what the events were that would construct that fate. Like what events took place in your life to form your influences? Well, I had a really crazy life. I grew up in Japan; my parents were missionaries. I went there when I was six, my mom got really sick — I don’t know why to this day, my parents are, uh, really weird. I was kind of shoved into a public school at six; my dad was studying Japanese at a language school. The language school was across the street from a tennis court. The city is Kadiza, in Nagano-ken — it’s kind of considered the Aspen of Japan — is very ritzy and beautiful. And one day I’m at the language school waiting for my dad, and I was just starting to learn Japanese. I was immersed in it because nobody spoke English, and I couldn’t understand anything. And literally, one day I understood everything everyone was saying. It was about seven months in and it was so surreal. I remember thinking “What is my life? This is not normal…” And I knew it, but I didn’t even know how to think of it as a six-, seven-year-old. I’m sitting there, and I’m watching all these people playing tennis, and there are cameras there, but I’m just watching with my face against the fence. Someone comes up to me and says, “That’s the emperor of Japan.” I always remembered that. There was a lot of shit that happened there. I started to be a teenager in Japan, and we moved back when I was 15… So you spent your formative years there? Yeah, my formative years were spent in Japan. I started skateboarding in Japan, became a really avid skateboarder, and we even were responsible for finding a really famous skate spot. We came back to the US when I was 15. I was really into Japanese punk-rock; I remember the day Kurt Cobain died — I was really into Nirvana. The real formative thing was when I came back to the US. My parents were really conservative… like I can’t overstate it enough. So I came back from Japan, skateboarding, and punk rock, to rural Ohio, where everyone played football. My parents didn’t want me to go to school because they thought I would become a corrupt atheist, so I didn’t. I was homeschooled and worked at a movie theater from 15 to 18, and I would pretend to do my homework and finish by 11, and then go work the matinee shift with this old woman named Phyllis. The reason I tell you all this is that the shock of cultural difference put my brain into a spin. Everything became very existential to me at a very young age. I was like, “Nothing means anything.” I realized in 6th grade that the Japanese didn’t like America — I went to Hiroshima on a field trip and they were all like, fuck America — but all my life I had heard about how great America was, so you start to see the dissonance at a young age. Which is true? So when I was really young I started to throw it all out the window, like all of it was a joke to me, but not as a rebellious teenager, it was a true existential crisis to me. I started to notice the deep contrast in everything, and I started to notice all the little things instead of the big things. That changed how I perceived everything, I think. And I think that’s what helps me be creative, if I am even creative. That was the most colossal thing, that upbringing and those events. Goop by Seth Graham You and [ex-TMT contributor] Keith Rankin knew each other in Ohio when you both started Orange Milk around 2010. Could you explain the environment you were in and your ideas of what the label was going to be like? People want like a glorious answer when they ask that, but there isn’t one. It was honestly Keith and I were making music ourselves, and we both kept getting rejected by labels… Probably for good reasons. We were like, “Aw, fuck that, let’s start our own label to release our own stuff.” It was kind of a hybrid between there being certain artists who were only on tape who we thought should come out on LP. One of them was an album called Crowded Out Memory by this band called Caboladies. This band Talkies. That was kind of the Robert Beatty crew, like Eric Lampan and Christopher Bush; they had this band that were kind of spastic, fun electronica. We loved it, and that album in particular came on a really limited CD-R, and we were like, “That should be on LP!” It was like when all that rage with Emeralds was happening in our little pocket scene. And not that it was a competition, but we thought Caboladies was far more interesting, and we wanted to bolster it for that reason. We were just like… I don’t want to hear synth drone. We would send each other clips by a really wide variety of artists. We were imaging things we wanted to hear together, in some weird way. Like the Herbie Hancock Raindance record. All kinds of little clips, like, “This album, but only these parts.” We did have a very conscious conversation to decide where we wanted to go, and then we just started digging it up. We just started searching for things that we liked on SoundCloud. Would you consider that your contribution to music or to your pocket of the music world? Is establishing that family your driving force? I think Keith and I really wanted to be in the music world, and we kind of constantly got rejected a lot. We wanted to find our own. And we were, I wouldn’t say critical, but we were really into this idea of experimental music being really joyous and really accessible. Like folk music or something. And we really consciously saw it that way. We would sit down and listen to Herbie Hancock — I think I’ve mentioned him a few times, but we’re obsessed — and we would listen to his records and say, “This part is pure joy, but it sounds insane.” We want to make that, and we want to hear that, and have a label go full-tilt on making that. It’s one of my favorite things about Hancock. His music is chill and inviting and so weird at times. I just love that. It feels like you can let go — it can be contemplative, it can be deep, it can be all that Tiny Mix Tapes stuff, or it can just be pure fun! I think we both find it really refreshing. And we like releasing our own stuff because it just gives us control and makes it less bureaucratic or political. It’s less about hustling. I don’t have to worry about being judged. That freedom is nice as an artist. You’ve mentioned joy a few times as an important theme in your music… I feel joy a lot, so I was just trying to convey that as much as I could. Vulnerability is such a strength that I admire in people, people who can just admit things and let it be. There’s not even close to enough of that in our world. Even myself I don’t let myself be vulnerable enough, but I think it’s such a beautiful thing, and if the music is kind of awkward and there’s that space, I think it conveys vulnerability. What about the process of making music? Does that bring joy? Your music sounds very playful, so I’m wondering to what degree your process involves discovery or “play,” in the kind of childlike way of working things out? Ha! Making the music is torture. I feel like Keith and I have high standards with each other. If I make a track and send it to him, he’s going to kind of rip it apart. It’s kind of like a professor reviewing your work. We both treat it as a helpful device, we’re not trying to shit on each other, we both really love each other so there’s that trust. It’s a rare thing. But in that sense, my record felt like a master’s thesis. It was so much work, and so much time, and agony. But I still love doing it. To answer your question, I was trying to be super-direct — this is how I feel, a lot of the time. It’s kind of funny, joyous, kind of awkward at times. I wanted those elements to be in there, and I have this kind of aversion to authority. I associate it with pretension. I’m not saying it’s objective, but pretension and authority to me are the same thing. It’s about controlling you, or controlling how you will experience something. And if you let that go, you can make with it what you will, know what I mean? That might sound like pretentious nonsense, I don’t know. Was the record heavily composed our conceptually wrought before you began to work on it? It was a mixture of everything. After talking to people who are actually trained classically, I get the vibe that everybody has a similar method. Some things are conceptually thought out, like I want this sound or that sound, and then you build a structure to execute that sound. I would write MIDI parts that were like, a cello pizzicato, and I would write it until I really liked it, and then let it sit. And I would play with Serum [VST], and be like, I like this sound that sounds like metal is coming out of my eyeball, how can I fixate on this thing? It’s almost like assembling a painting — I like this shape, this color, and then you just edit it and fit it in. OK, now I’m going to add clarinet, like right here. You mess with that sequence forever. That’s what I did, but with Gasp, I tried to take it as far as I could. In that once I had a structure I really liked, I would hate the song. Even though I liked all the parts, I would then edit it down — like how fucked up could I make this? — until it feels barely cohesive. So did this process yield tons of material? How did you decide what would make the final cut? At one point when I was making it, I got so tired that I just wanted to put it up on Bandcamp and never think about it again. I basically revised like 70% of it, and that was like a year in. But I just knew it wasn’t done. So you just keep going with the record. There were moments when I was just completely improvising. I would take Push 2 [the Ableton Live controller/sequencer], just randomly play it, hit things, turn things. I don’t come up with much that way, but every once in a while when I get really frustrated, I’ll just improvise and see what happens. It usually yields like three hours of dicking around. But I always end up in what seems like a final crescendo, where I think back through so many times, you have to do, over and over, tedious. Sometimes you have to delete everything, and you go over it again and half of it is good. And once you’re 80% done, you can’t stand the other 20%, but you’re so sick and tired of it, it’s torture. That’s what it felt like. But I love it, and now I’m all ready to do another one. It’s kind of all I can think about. http://j.mp/2u69i63

[melissahappyplace]

HAPPY PLACE:  A Teen Space

I got my girl!  These were the first words out of my mouth when the doctor delivered my daughter, Kate.  I had been told I was having a girl months earlier, but I didn't truly believe it until the doctor announced it in the delivery room.  Katelyn Benefiel!  The daughter I had dreamed of for as far back as I can remember.  

I won't lie and say my early days as a mom were the things dreams are made of because they were messy.  I did not adjust to motherhood like they showed on the old TLC show 'A Baby Story.'  For months prior to Kate's birth, I watched this show and bought their portrayal of motherhood hook line and sinker.  Mom is pregnant; mom gives birth with minimal mess; mom and baby walk off into the sunset; mom knows exactly what to do and enjoys every minute of it.  Nope!  That's not what happened for me and I was understandably upset with this show and myself for believing it so wholeheartedly.

Post-partum depression hit me soon after delivering my daughter.  Fortunately, it didn't last but the feeling that I did not know what I was doing did remain.  I felt like there was this yet unknown mistake I could make that would lead to Kate's death.  Literally, I was constantly worried about her mortality and I wondered if she would be better off with a different mom who was enjoying every minute of it.  It didn't help that she was on a heart and breathing monitor after failing the sleeping test at the hospital.  But, I think I would have felt the way I did with or without that constant reminder of the risk of loving someone so much.  

I have always been a slow beginner.  My Earth Space science teacher in high school told my parents, "Melissa is what I call a slow starter, but now she's doing great!"  Give me a minute and I can kick ass and take names at almost anything, but early on ... I'm pensive, hesitant and proceed cautiously.  It was this way with motherhood in the beginning too.

I lacked the wisdom and foresight to realize those early years as a mom are difficult for everyone, but also precious and over in the blink of an eye.  I look back on the young mom I was and wish she could have relaxed and enjoyed that precious moment in time especially since Katelyn turned out to be my only child.   With four short years at home left, I am preparing myself for the long goodbye.  I allow myself to have sympathy for the woman I was when I had a newborn, but I still wish she'd known better and trusted herself more.  I wish she had known how good being a mom would get as that baby became a fun little girl.

I have thrived as a mom since Kate was old enough to have a real conversation.  At around 4, I hit my groove as a mom and have enjoyed the ride since.  Katelyn is my dream child.  She is my favorite topic of conversation.  I always thought that your husband is supposed to be the love of your life and my love for my husband is indeed beyond what I knew existed before him, but your child...my daughter... she's the love of my life!  Every love before her was selfish and self-serving.  I only thought I loved well before her.  

That's not to say my daughter is perfect.  I get my fair share of eye rolls.... the look that says, 'mom, you are sooo not cool.'  And her early middle school years broke my heart again and again.  It was the first time I couldn't fix her hurts.  It was the first time I saw her experience real, deep down sadness and feared what would be for her.  While she is doing beyond well now, I know there will be many long nights in my future knowing that moms can't fix everything.  In fact, it’s better if we let our kids fix them or let them learn to accept the hard times as part of what helps them become who they are made to be.

Kate is bold.  She is what my husband has always called me, 'a fighter of injustice.'  She gets as angry as I do knowing something is happening that should NOT.  Kate is beautiful.  When she was little, she looked just like me.  Everyone called her my 'mini-me.'  Now she looks more like my husband and is becoming more of a blend of the two of us.  Kate is an old soul.  I have conversations with her that make me forget she's 14, not 21 or 41.  Yet... she's still a kid.  I know this when she tries to get by with fibbing about chores and won't look me in the eye.  I know it when I wake her up in the morning and she wants me to get in bed with her and cuddle.  There's still a little girl inside that growing teenager.

What's it like to be a teenager in 2019?  There are definitive ways its more difficult.  They didn't do shooting drills when I was in school and our teenagers have been doing them since elementary school.  Our politics are much like the tumultuous 1960s and they are bombarded with information and images on their phones.  Social media extends the social politics after hours.  But, some things never change about being a teen like the need to have a space to call your own, close the door, dance it out or to just ... be ... still.

In some ways, our teenagers need a Happy Place more than we do.  They face a lot of stress and anxiety in both their academic work and the social mind field that is middle and high school.  Mean girls have cell phones now!  We all went through those challenging years and there was nothing better than coming home and closing the door to the outside world at least for a little while.

Kate is Boho to my Classic design sense.  She's warm yellows and soft pinks to my love of green, blue or even better...teal!  Her room is a reflection of her free spirit and everything she loves, including Timothee Chalamet, Kurt Cobain, and To Kill A Mockingbird.  One of her most prized possessions is a picture of the actress who played Scout, Mary Badham, laying on the lap of Gregory Peck who played the epic role of Atticus Finch.  She still tells me all the time that if she has a son, there is no doubt she will name him Atticus.  A poster above her bureau came out of an album my sister gave her; it’s a black and white of John Lennon at a white piano.  Like I said, she’s an old soul.  

Kate has a TV in her room, but it’s rarely on except during the holidays when she has Christmas movies on 24/7.  She has an X-box too, but most of the time she is all cozied up reading in her little window cubby.  She started reading at 4, but there was a period of time in late elementary school when she stopped reading much for pleasure.  A couple of years ago, she started reading all the time and I'm so grateful she knows and loves the escape and pleasure of reading.

Kate’s love of California, anything retro, and family are abundant in her Happy Place.  Her California postcards from our vacation last year to the bay area are on a corkboard with a printed out image of ‘Hyde’ from That 70s Show, along with a picture of my mom on her wedding day and a handwritten note she got from my father. Why shouldn’t Kurt Cobain, Gregory Peck, and her grandpa be together?  She combines these people as they are in her heart … all together making her happy.  

Kate loves earthy things like lavender, dried flowers, succulents, colorful crystals, rocks and a yellow butterfly in a little glass bottle.  Much like her mom, she loves a badass that’s not afraid to stand out so Stevie Nicks appearing on the cover of the Rumours album is displayed on a shelf.  An antique camera and her new polaroid are laid out with pride as well.  You can see the old soul Kate is throughout.  I can almost picture her first apartment!

In a rather large room, Kate actually spends most of her time in the little window cubby listening to music and reading.  It’s the kind of space I would love to have had when I was her age.  Her window looks out above the neighborhood, her world still small, while she dreams of a bigger life somewhere else. And at the same time, a ceramic moon is hung above her window that once hung above her crib.  That’s the thing with being a teenager.  You long to grow up, but you’re constantly reminded of the child you still are.  

The days of knowing Katelyn is upstairs in her room are growing shorter each day. The Saturdays of running over to Target and spending $75 on nothing we need won’t last forever.  The drives in the car when she opens up in ways she never does any other time are numbered.  The moments I spend looking at Kate and wondering how she got so incredibly beautiful and uniquely poised…will go on as long as I am breathing.  

I can’t wait to watch this young woman go out into the world and do so many of the things I was afraid to do and more.  I long to see Kate live bigger than her dad and I dreamed possible.  But, for now, I’ll enjoy knowing she’s upstairs in her room, reading a book, talking to her boyfriend, or looking out the window dreaming about her future . . . beneath the ceramic moon I picked out when she was a twinkle in my eye.

#happyplace #teendesign #homedecor #homedesign #howyouhome #hyggehome #homeandliving #lovewhereyoulive #lovewhereyoudwell #nestandflourish

[theboardwalkbody]

31, 27, 25

25. role model:

I’m not entirely sure I have one. I used to think so but I’m not so sure. I used to consider Steve Irwin a role model, I still think he is, but I don’t think he’s mine. He’s an excellent role model for kids and those wanting to get into wildlife conservation that’s for sure. I used to think Patrick Stump was my role model when I realized how great FOB and their lyrics are and when I was very inspired by his weight loss and figured, if he could do it - so could I! But I’ve given up so many times that it feels shallow now. Despite not knowing much about my grandpa (mom’s side) I thought maybe he’s a role model. From what I understand he was very smart, he also had dreams that sometimes came true (like I do) and if he wanted it and put his mind to it he could do it. He had tons of friends and everyone seemed to get along with him. But people are flawed and I hold nothing against him but... idk. I feel like my blood is tainted by my dad’s lineage. Like no matter how hard I try I can’t be the good qualities of a man I’ve never met in my entire life. I always feel like I’ve got the “cursed/unlucky” bits of my mom’s family and that leaves me with the garbage that is my dad’s. I guess if I had to pick tho maybe my grandpa still is that role model person. I often times, when I fail (which is often) feel like I’ve let him down somehow, like I’ve not tried hard enough (he would have tried harder!) and that if I was more like him I’d be all golden. But idk. I don’t know if that’s even how role models are supposed to work. I kinda considered role models to be people in the path of life you want to be like (like a musician aspiring to be like Kurt Cobain or an actress aspiring to be like Carrie Fischer). So IDK who does and doesn’t count as role models. I’ve got no nurse role models.

27. things i hate:

There are absolutely plenty of these but I’ll try to keep the list short. I genuinely hate my dad and select people on my dad’s side of the family. I hate when people tell me not to hate family members “because they’re family”. Sorry, I think it’s perfectly acceptable to hate rapists and abusers. I hate when people who don’t understand mental illness try to treat mental illness. I hate when people with no medical knowledge spread around incorrect, and sometimes even dangerous, incorrect mumbojumbo but when you correct them and site the sources of your knowledge they tell you you must be the one who’s wrong. (Yes, me, the nursing student, is the one who is wrong and not you, who’s never had a drop of medical training, who read a Dr. Oz article in Cosmo one time). I hate when people don’t give me credit where I am due (even tho I rarely think I deserve it anyway), and I hate how entire segments of my family ignore my knowledge because they consider my male cousin the genius in the family. Not gonna lie, I hate me a lot. I hate my mental illness, I hate my size, I hate my lack of motivation. I hate carrots. I mean, I really, really hate carrots.  

31. 3 random facts:

a) i think my best feature is my eyes. i think they’re a really pretty color. my self-esteem is so damn low, however, that sometimes i forget i like even them. i’m reminded when i look in a mirror and see them and i go ‘god damn those are pretty’ and it gives me a weird feeling at first because i’m not used to complimenting myself or thinking any part of me looks nice.

b) i am a hypochondriac and i’ve got chronic anxiety. not a good combo at all. sometimes i start to feel sick and panic and think, ‘i should go to the doctor’ but when i’m actually there i’m like ‘please don’t find anything’ even tho i was convinced i was sick and spent money to go. other times if i’m /really/ scared and /100%/ convinced something is going to kill me i’m too afraid to go to a doctor because i’m certain i am right but don’t want confirmation that i am. i’m currently having a PPD skin test done for TB (part of a health physical for my new job) and while the first test was fine and dandy im panicking over this second one and i’ve been worried all day that I have TB. I’m both dreading tomorrow’s check-up on it and waiting with baited breath so they can tell me it’s fine. 

c) i can’t leave the house without saying goodbye to my pets. it’s become a compulsion. i worry something will happen if i don’t say that i will be back roughly in X amount of time, sometimes where i am going, and reassure them that i love them. if i stay somewhere overnight my one pets’ picture is on my phone and i will say goodnight to him. it’s been about two years i’ve been doing this.

Thanks for the Q’s anon-a-noodle! :)

[lostborderline]

I am a melodramatic borderline with too much feeling and care for my own good. I am characterized by being extremely abnormal usually expressing myself through words or art (preferably realism or portraits), singing, and occasionally creating custom jean jacket patches to make myself look cool. Let me start my blog, or journal, if you will, with a bit about me to give you some insight. I mean, how can you imagine my life if you do not even know who I am? For starters, I am a strong advocate for mental illness awareness as I suffer from borderline myself mixed up with an assortment of others such as depression, anxiety, bipolar, and antisocial personality. I just turned 22, and I have been working in a Dunkin for four years so I have made some meaningful relationships with coworkers and customers although never close. My hobbies include writing freeverse poetry, short horror stories, skateboarding, playing video games (specifically Playstation), painting portraits, and singing + playing guitar. I have always been pretty creative in my life. I suppose all my pain fuels the passion for these creative outlets. My music does not vary a lot. I am very peculiar with music. I love any type of rock or pop music from the sixties, seventies/eighties punk music, classic rock or even boy bands such as the Backstreet Boys. My favorite bands being The Beatles, System of a Down, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Queen and Nirvana. I grew up on heavy metal, actually, like Mushroomhead or Mudvayne. My mom actually wanted to try heroin because “Kurt Cobain did heroin”, she was obsessed with him. That should tell you a lot about her. There’s nothing wrong with Cobain, just my mom is literally the epitome of mental health issues. When I was a preteen, I was constantly called a loser for saying no to taking drugs whenever she offered. I never needed drugs to feel like things were okay. I suppose I am a strong person. She was very depressed throughout my life. She’s even overdosed on stuff like oxycontin and Xanax in front of me, I constantly saw her being carried out in an ambulance, leaving me alone at home to cry about whether she was going to be okay or not. She never was a good mother. I feel bad for saying that, I think she really tried, she just had a shitty life and I happened to be an accident so she never really knew how to deal with her consequence. She was more of a best friend than a mother. There is nothing wrong with that, I mean she has always had my back except in times where she thought I was acting unloving towards her in which was not the case. She also has borderline. When I got arrested both times, our bond really played a role in me not getting incarcerated. She helped me make up lies to make the situation seem better than it was. In my defense, my arrests were caused by me standing up for myself. My mom had always dated really shitty guys. She was so desperate for love that she even turned to Indian guys for it, I’m talking, these guys also had a “special interest” in me too (gross). She allowed it, which was appalling. The height of her dating peaked when she married for the second time to a Satanist. Not even a true Satanist, like this guy actually worshipped the Devil, man. He was extremely abusive. He taught me to be very afraid of anger. I can recall him getting real close to my face and screaming in it, followed by taking a whole load of my toys I had and throwing it in the dumpster outside. If I had attempted to go and grab them, he threatened me. He also threatened to hang himself in front of my younger sister and me, not to mention, set my mom on fire. This whole thing went on for like four years. When I was a baby, my mom did not talk to me, like most parents did, so I lost weight. I never really cried either. Later on in life, my mom had a good job, so she constantly bought me Pokemon toys, anything related to that, it was my favorite. Then she lost her job. Enough about her, for now. In middle school, I was bullied for having purple hair, and dressing “goth”. It got to be enough to the point where I really became the bully. I started to go up to guys and start beating on them. I wanted to put fear into them, so I brought a knife to school and then I got expelled. I never regretted it, at all. It changed my life. I was never really bullied again, I actually made friends through fear. I enjoyed it. However, my depression still lingered, most likely from family, so I used to cut myself all over my left arm. I still have all the scars to this day. In high school I would sometimes accept my mom’s offers of ambien, Vicodin, and weed. My personal favorite was ambien, it made me see things, and everything was like you were drunk, walking into walls and such. The effect got to be too much during the trip and I would feel super nauseous and in a lot of pain so I forced myself to sleep. Vicodin made me feel like I was dying, literally. I could not tolerate it. I took ambien so much that it actually stopped working on me, and the only effect I had was feeling nauseous and in that same amount of pain. I knew that drug could really fuck you up too, but I did not care. I have always had impulses including cheating with multiple people. Maybe it has something to do with getting love or seeking a thrill, I think that's it. At one point I had two boyfriends at the same time and disgustingly, I was open about it. When I moved away in sophomore year and switched schools, I became attached to this one guy I met who, at first treated me and lead me on as if he actually liked me. He spent time talking about his previous love, although I did not know who she was at the time. We had sex and then the next day he said we should not talk at all anymore. The day before, he called me his “Snowflake”. I felt so used. The school found out, and the next thing I knew, his previous love bombarded me with messages calling me a whore and how she was still in love with him. I then had the reputation of a slut at school. He made me swear that I would deny ever having sex with him, it was our secret. I got so tired of keeping it to protect him, and I did not want the school to think I was a liar for attention. I had the texts between us, all the proof, so I posted it for the world to see. The day he threw me away I refused to go to school, I wanted to kill myself. My friends found out and called the school, in turn, the school called my mom and she threatened to take me to the mental hospital. I have had this happen to me a few times actually, being used. Not always sexual, either. I was dated at least twice to make their ex jealous, I was just a homecoming date, which was abandoned so he could go dance with his ex anyway. Surprise, the next day I was dumped. Starting to see a pattern here, right. I had this one guy who was always trying his hardest to fuck me but I always said no, I did not want to. His excuse for dumping me was that I refused to tell him who gave me a concussion, in order to protect my family, because my cousin did. That brings me to my cousin. When I moved, I became best friends with him. Also, surprise, he has borderline too. He would spend months at a time at my place, sleeping over. We would pull all nighters watching anime until we had to go to school. When he tried to kill himself, he was sent to a mental hospital, which left me alone. I had nobody to talk to, so I started to write a journal. It helped my anxiety so much. Whenever I had anxiety at school I would open it up and write. I also started to write poetry because of him. When he got out, he made me a bracelet symbolizing our bond. It was a bracelet with blue and red hearts with black beads. I must have cut it at least five times whenever we fought, and somehow I always managed to fix it. The final straw was when he gave me a concussion, I destroyed it permanently and lost the beads. I regret it every day. He was very protective of me, and whenever I dated. He knew I got used a lot. I have had people tell me they never loved me. At some point I started to notice there was something really wrong with me. I must have been traumatized somehow. I suddenly started to make it so my room was always pitch black during the day, I would sleep as much as I could, and I was actually emotionless. I could not feel any sort of emotion; love, attachment, happiness, sadness, any sort of care. It lasted for months. I started to only be awake at night from ten at night to six in the morning during the summer. I would not deal with reality at all. I was never on my personal Facebook, I was always on my role-play Facebook making “friends” with other accounts alike. I only watched anime and that’s literally it. There was absolutely no sense of reality, I never left the house, or dealt with problems. You could not have problems if you were always asleep, right? I was very cynical I realized. I hated people, everyone. Never wanted kids, hated them. I would have disturbing thoughts. Often including gore, or violence. They never really were a problem until later in life. When I moved during my junior year to a totally different state, I was so prejudice of the people around me. I am from the Northeast, and moving down south was entirely new. I had this very clear image of “redneck” painted within my mind, and it was not a good one. It was confederate flag city down there. I literally alienated every friendship I had. I constantly rejected this one guy who liked me and tried his best to win me over. I was very clear one how I did not want friends. Oh, and guess again, I dated a guy who dumped me right after homecoming, and completely mocked me for not wanting him to talk to me while he was under the influence. He also made fun of me for being depressed. I think I was more “myself” than I had ever been down there. I wore the weirdest outfits, I drew more than I ever have in my life, and wrote at least a thousand poems and stories. I focused solely on my schoolwork and was on high honors my entire senior year. I was so proud of myself. Fast forward to post-graduation. I was living with my boyfriend at the time, and my mom had her friend prank call me all the time. She constantly harassed me, I think she was angry that I moved out and started my life. I had to change my number, and to get back at her, I cussed her out and let everyone know how horrible she was. She let my sister do drugs at just over ten years old. Eventually, my sister got taken away from her because she was depressed and started cutting herself. Now, being in an entirely different relationship, I have accomplished so many things, and been through so much shit that is way worse than high school ever was. From being treated like shit at my job, to being in a toxic relationship that I still depend on, my borderline is worse than ever. I have gotten into really violent fights with my boyfriend that have resulted in a lot of blood, broken doors, broken walls, and broken hearts. I am really attached to him, and I could not imagine him being with anyone else. He is just so unsupportive of my mental health, and just does not understand it, despite saying he does just because he looked it up. Sometimes I wish he could go through what I have to. He thinks that you can just stop anxiety. Yeah. Besides still being in love, I also depend on him to be able to use his car to get around. It has progressively gotten worse over the years. From loving each other very wholesomely and spending all our waking time together, to arguing all the time and him being out with his friends whenever possible. I’m trying my hardest. Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I could not feel. He comes off as kind of suspicious. He will talk to a girl or send money to a girl and blatantly lie about it and make me seem like I am the crazy one and turns it back on me. He made up multiple stories for one incident, and frankly that makes it not add up. I always end up crawling back to him trying to get him to express his love for me. He has hit me multiple times, and slammed my head against the bathroom floor, causing me to bite my bottom lip and blood started spewing everywhere. My lip did not heal back to normal. My borderline is worse than ever. I am extremely impulsive. My moods are extreme, and never moderate. It’s either I am feeling an extreme emotion, or I am feeling absolutely nothing and empty. Everything is black and white. I either hate somebody and can love them the next minute. It is either a good day or a bad day. Nothing is ever in between, ever. I also dissociate often. What it feels like to me when it is happening is that my mind will leave reality and become very fuzzy. My eyes will unfocus themselves and become blurry and I will be completely blank, as if I am nothing but a shell of a human. Sometimes it happens while driving and can be dangerous. I do realize when I am doing it and eventually try to shake it off.  I feel like I have written enough about my life story, and about me. I did not intend to make a long ass journal about my whole damn self, I wanted to make it short and sweet, but I suppose it is better this way and will give clear insight as to my back story and the reason why I am the way I am. I have literally been typing this for at least two hours now and I am so fucking tired, my eyes actually hurt and itch. I intended to get some game playing in before going to bed but it’s probably unlikely now as I have overstayed my welcome here.  Thank you to whoever took the time to listen to my sob story, and welcome to my journal, and future entries. I also intend to post daily random pictures to also document my life. I figure it would be super cool.  Yours,  Corey

#bpd #borderline #journal #entry #journal entry #diary #borderline personality disorder #mental illness #mental health awareness #my life #life story #abuse #abuse story #about me

[lostangelcity-blog]

#Henryrollins, seen here Rocking The Metro in Chicago IL. I remember this nite as if it were yesterday, it was or should I say twas the nite before Christmas and all through the House every street creature was stirring Ready to take some agression out. Hank pop on stage after Black Flags signature Guitar solo by Greg Ginn “The Prosiss of weeding Out” Henry Held some Mistletoe infront of his crotch and simply said “it’s not my imagination ive got a gun at my back” and with that Black Flag broke into “Revenge” The place erupted!! It was on The Pit of pits,slamdance solice an angry teens Nirvana before Kurt Cobain existed as a matter of fact Kurt Would have been denied entry at the time cause it was an 18 & over show and in 1984 Kurt was only17 me I was 19 im actual in this photo. Now im not here writing about #Grunge I want too tell ya my side of the story, and The story itself is a Henry Rollins story. Henry (in his many works and spoken word proformances) has referenced the Metro show as the most Violent shows Henry and Black Flag had experienced. Let me tell ya’ll a little bit of Hardcore History, Back in the Punk Day it was the norm to be able to jump up on stage with your favorite group join in on a lyric or two and stage dive right into the party,there was only one band that banned the practice, you guessed it #BlackFlag, Henry and the band would take the stage along with their middle aged biker types(look at photo see thug) as bouncers,mostly they just keept folks from gettin on stage nobody was ever bounced but I cant stress the fact Bouncers,rules,telling us no or you can’t prohibited well not a good idea and totaly un-heard of and on December 24 1984 The Punks of Chicago were going to send Mr. Rollins and his group a little message, mostly directed against Henry. Punks organized well I should say the Skinheads organized theres an oxymoron organized Skinheads, believe or not that’s what happend 2 or 3 songs into the show someone got on stage and instead of just being pushed off back into the crowd this fucker was going to push back a fight broke out between the 2 bouncers on 1 punk for like a second 1 on 2 turned into a fuckin rumble so many kids were just piling on the stage fists,spit,shit was flying everywhere the band backed way the fuck off like Elvis leaving the building exept for Henry he climbed to the top of the stack of amps out of reach out of the fight but not out of sight,he sat down,legs crossed looking down at the mayhem shaking his head in a dissaproving maner,then tried to get the crowd to chill by explaining how people shouldn’t have to get a boot in the face or have some slob jump on them while at a show,anyway after10 more minutes Black Flag took the stage to get on with what they came for to play music. The vibe in the room was intense unlike usual,yeah kids back then were more violent than most Punk Rock was about being frustrated as a youth in America, and Black Flag was one of bands who pioneered the shit,invented the sceen and at the time The Band to See! So Who is for My Mom,Dad the Cops or Henry Rollins to tell me what to do, you follow the Skinheads had decided that L.A rules didn’t apply they would not let this go. The Band started again and it wasn’t more than a verse or two well before the chorus and Bamm It was on again mostly 1 group of Skins but the frustration and Defiance became contagious the kids piled on stage with Henry climbing back up on his perch just in time for the next round of Fists,spit,shit flying fisticuffs between Black Flags minions and the kids of Chicago. The second fight,well I thought fuck it we’ve not even seen 3 or 4 song’s how? I bet they leave I thought this because these Skinheads were not just starting the fighting but were verbally threatening Henry, (will see you outside without the bouncers) shit like that,“and they ment it” they were going to fuck Henry Rollins up. The reason"making rules"delinquents, Punks and dope fiends don’t do rules, this is supposed to be the ultimate Antiestablishment movement since the 60’s !! There is a reason I’m telling you this story is because Henry has written and spoke of how violent Chicago was in the 80’s and I thought to myself I wonder if he even knows why? Black Flag criss crossed the USA back then they would come back often like every 4 to 6 month’s and every show that Black Flag played at the Caberet Metro after the nightmare before Christmas after that would be mared with Violence were talking from 84’ to 87-88 and the violence was all directed against Mr. Rollins. I will say to Henry you had big balls for sticking it out,finishing the show staying on stage while the fight club below got on with what they came to do fuck Henry up. But never got around to actually kicking anything. They finished the show I loved it it was fucking Hardcore… The moral to the story is, Never tell a Punk what he can or can’t do and never make up rules for kids who think Anarchism is the answer to fucked up people and or policy.

[anjazhou-blog]

We are not for the world, the world is for us

                 Defining cool has been a quintessential cultural quest for decades: everyone wants to be cool. But what exactly is cool? What does it mean to be cool? Do rebelliousness, toughness and thrill-seeking make up the essence of coolness? Can James Dean and Faye Donaway represent the common sense of cool? Personally, I think no one could give a definite accurate definition of cool. However, although we cannot define what is cool, we can still find the common qualities of cool people and explore how these people define cool.  

                   Friedrich Nietzsche, the famous German philosopher, in my opinion is one of the coolest human beings. But why people like Nietzsche? Compared to Plato, Kant, or Marx, Nietzsche absolutely is not a simple name which is easy to remember. However, Nietzsche was the first people who bravely said: "God is dead". To understand god is dead, the first thing we need to understand is that it is not a bad thing to "kill" god because the truth is human beings do not really need god as long as we can be masters of ourselves. Moreover, Nietzsche's ultimate purpose is to criticize the social norms at that time through proposing the idea god is dead. As a lonely and romantic traveler, Nietzsche is rebellious—he declares god is dead and he fights against all the traditional values. For Nietzsche, human beings should rise above our circumstances and difficulties to embrace whatever hardship comes. In his book "beyond good and evil", Nietzsche leads people to break all the norms and jump out of comfortable zones. Being our own masters means we need to admit the importance of our own wills and desires, at the same time emphasizing individualism. The moment that all the rebellious ideas appear in our minds, we are supposed to have someone to be our mentor to the way, and Nietzsche is exactly this kind of person. For cool people, there are always some characteristics can make them stand out—something doesn't conform to social norms of the time. What makes Bonnie cool? Her nonchalant and chill expression and her gun makes her different with these girls who wear flower dress. What makes James Dean cool? His locomotive leather jacket and Harley makes him stand out in those decent men in suits and ties. What makes Angelina Jolie cool? When other little girls dream to be ballet dancers, she wants to be a vampire. And her rebellious madness and boldness, her brave attitude in face of disease, and her brilliance of motherhood in face of children all make her an extraordinary woman. What makes Kurt Cobain cool? He'd rather be himself and be detested by others than changing himself to please other people.

                   What coincide with Nietzsche's ideas is the definition of cool given by Pountain and Robbins's book Cool Rules: cool is an oppositional attitude adopted by individuals or small groups to express defiance to authority. In other words, cool people are those who refuse to be sheep and they pursue everything they want through struggling. However, from Cool Rules, being cool forms part of risky series of negotiations about becoming an individual while still being accepted into a group, which means being cool doesn't equal to being weird. There should be an obvious limit between cool and weird. But what is the limit? To answer this question, I choose to look at the three requirements of being cool mentioned in Cool Rules—narcissism, ironic detachment, and hedonism. Firstly, narcissism means an exaggerated admiration for oneself, which gives rise to the feeling that the world revolves around you and shares your mood. Basically, this is a mood that I am not for the world, but the world is for me. Love yourself and follow your heart is always the first step of being cool. We should appreciate our parents giving birth to us but we are not supposed to live as they wish, and what we need to do is to figure out who we are and who we want to be, facing our desires and pursing dreams by all means. Never look back and never regret. Although some people consider narcissism as a sin of vanity, I personally think we should have an aggressive attitude toward our spirit of narcissism. Being aggressive when our pursuits and dreams are denigrated, and there's nothing wrong with being ambitious if at the same time we can be responsible for our behaviors.  

                   Secondly, ironic detachment is a stratagem for concealing one's feelings by suggesting their opposite. Philosophers divide irony into several types, but cool irony is a combination of different types of irony, making it a verbal weapon effective in aggression. For me, ironic detachment is the state of not being fully part of a specific scene due to that appreciation of life. Some people consider the world as a huge vanity fair and they want to constantly compete with others to win what they want. But cool people don't care. They don't want what the majority dying to get and they just want to follow their hearts. They are able to accept themselves and accept others, and they can also accept their own environment. In both the good and the adversity, they will accept everything and struggle to improve the situation. It takes a price to grow up and to be cool because growth always involves adventures, temptations and unknown things, and we should constantly try new experiences and expand our personal limits.

                     Last but not the least, hedonism is the simplest but also the most complicated cool quality. Literally, hedonism means we should simply seek pleasure and enjoy everything. However, cool hedonism is always driven by some ambitious motivations. This is a kind of pleasure from physical gratification, the excitement of competition or the charm of anticipated success. From my point of view, the pleasure that is too easy to get is not real pleasure. I think that hedonism refers to inner enjoyment, but not pure material pleasure. Some people think that the pursuit of material needs all kinds of abilities, but the pursuit of inner enjoyment is not that demanding. However, the pursuit of inner enjoyment is the hardest. Inner enjoyment is a combination. Things like food, money, sex are pleasure, at the same time reading, listening to music, watching movies, thinking, and debating are also pleasure. We need to combine different pleasures together to understand the true meaning of hedonism.  

                  In addition to the three characteristics above, cool people also need to be complicated, which means many of their features are contradictory. In W.E.B Dubois's opinion, being black is a constant sense of having "two warring ideals" within you, and a desire to merge your "double self into a better true self." For Dubois, he calls this kind of feeling "double-consciousness". Why someone cannot be an African and an American at the same time? But also because of this kind of double-consciousness, there appeared so many extraordinary African-American artists. Like Drake, Kanye, Beyoncé, they use their lyrics to show their rebellion to the society. When I was a little girl, my cool mom told me that never let anyone label me and stop me being who I want to be. She said girls can be aggressive and ambitious rather than being kind and sweet, and she taught me that she would rather choose to reflect on the fault she made rather than regret that she didn't even choose and try. As an Asian girl, I am constantly labeled but at the same time try my best to remove all the labels and fight against the stereotype people have about "basic Asian girls". The fundamentals of being cool is to rebel through struggling: struggle to find who I am; struggle to find my own way; struggle to rebel against all the people who try to be "good" to me; struggle to fight against the weaknesses of human nature; struggle to do some seemingly meaningless and boring things to find the meaning of life; and struggle to recognize the essence of life but still passionately love life.  

                   Nietzsche didn't write "beyond god and evil" for cool; Yoko Ono didn't create her art works for cool; Isadora Duncan didn't dance for cool; Jay-Z didn't sing for cool. Then I realized that this kind of cool struggling should be meaningless and subconscious. Our ultimate purpose of struggling is not to simply be cool, but is to be a sober, thoughtful and independent human being instead of being a sheep—we need to follow our own rules instead of parents' rules, social rules or god's rules. Essentially, having a set of sound, complete and independent value system is the base of cool. Cool can be an image, a way of looking, talking or doing, but more importantly, it is a way of being.